A Great and Terrible Pain
by Celtic druidess
Summary: Queen Arwen dies untimely, leaving Aragorn in an angry volatile state. There is one with a dark secret who will come to comfort him in the only possible way. AU Definately not a MarySue. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**A/N: there is material here that may offend some people. Nothing will be too graphic, I assure you. This story is pretty AU, but definitely not a Mary-Sue. Anyhow please read and review if you have the stomach for it.**

**Summary: The Queen of Gondor has died untimely. Aragorn is bereft and angry. This volatile grief leads to some dark desires. A young chambermaid learns and relishes these desires.**

My name is Erendis, and I find pleasure in pain. Not pain of the heart, nay, but pain of the flesh. The beautiful sensations that tingle and burn. My parents were repelled by it. When I was a young child, spankings proved to have an alarmingly converse effect. Thus is my fate, and I relish it. Despite all that has befell me, I still relish it.

I was hired as a chambermaid to the royal family of Gondor when I was thirteen. My parents were more than willing to be rid of me. My, already, disturbing sexuality was a family secret and had to remain so lest the neighbors find out.

I performed the miscellaneous tasks of a maid in the King and Queen's bedchamber. Changing bed linens, folding clothes, and the like. Despite the vast rumors that nobles often slapped and whipped their servants for minor transgressions, the royal couple were against such harsh treatment. That was a severe let-down to me. I would've so enjoyed a strike from that tall, dark, ruggedly-handsome Aragorn. I cared not that he was more than old enough to be my father. Alas, he was a kind and gentle man. He never reprimanded unless compelled to do so. His wife, Arwen, was likewise sweet and gently. She had an air of grace that bespoke her Elven lineage.

Thus, were the glory days of Minas Tirith. The King and Queen were in love with each other and their people. They had a young son who would one day be king, and all was deemed good in the world. It was not to last, however. Not in the palace itself, at any rate.

By the time I had served in the palace for nearly four years, Queen Arwen was again with child. These four years had been relatively uneventful for me. Every time I tried to endear myself to a pageboy or squire I was roundly rejected once they learned of my hidden desires. The sweet, giggly girls were the ones they flocked around. Not that I was all that bad looking, really. I was tall and had an athletic build, my eyes were hazel and I had a mass of curly, dark brown hair. Yet for all that, I was quiet and kept to myself, and at times moody with sexual frustration.

The queen's pregnancy was without event until the seventh month. It was thought that she merely was having early labor, but it proved to be much more heinous. She was carrying twins and the first had not turned around properly for the birth. They were stuck. Arwen's screams were heard throughout the palace. She was losing a lot of blood, and as time drew on, her cries had less volume as she began to weaken. The midwives eventually got the first baby out. It was tiny and tinged blue. It was a girl, and it was dead. There was little hope for the other child.

Throughout all this, the King stalked the hall outside the royal chambers like a madman. He was shouting and cursing. His friend, the elf prince Legolas, tried to calm him, but it was all for naught. He could not be consoled. I observed this sitting on a bench in the hall with the other chambermaids, who cringed at King Aragorn's unwonted wrath.

Some three hours after Arwen's first pains, there was silence in the bedchamber.

"What is it?" Aragorn cried. "What's wrong?!" He pounded on the door. "Tell me or I shall come in and see for myself!"

A little old midwife came out. There were tears in her eyes. "My lord, there were twins and they were stuck. We made out best effort, but there was no saving them. And the queen…"

"What of my wife?!" cried the King, he almost shook the old woman, but Legolas held him back. "What of my Arwen?!"

"My lord," shuddered the midwife, "your wife lost too much blood. She… she died."

Aragorn let out a cry of anguish too great and terrible to imagine. He pushed his way into the bedchamber. More of his cries echoed out to the rest of us watching. The remaining midwives fled the room, leaving the king to his grief. There was a smashing noise that sounded like something being thrown against a wall. I assumed it was the vase that stood on a pedestal near the queen's mirror. I was later proved right.

The kingdom went into mourning for the late queen. Everyone, even down to the lowliest pig farmer knew of the King's grief. King Aragorn's rage toward life and new violent nature caused everyone to cringe with fear. Everyone that is, except for me.

**Well, how was it. Not too depressing I hope. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't LotR, or any of these characters except for Erendis.**

**Okay, this chapter might have a trifle more explicit material than the previous chapter. Just thought I'd give fair warning. As always, please read and review.**

**Chapter 2**

The queen's funeral was a sad affair. King Aragorn had a huge monument erected for her right above the vault where her body was to lie until the sands of time claimed her. It nearly broke my heart to see the young prince, Eldarion, tearfully set flowers upon his mother's breast before the lid of the vault sealed her away forever. He was only seven years old at the time, and it was likely that he had no inkling as to why his mother was taken from him.

Emissaries from all over Middle Earth came to offer their condolences to the grieving Gondorian king. Lord Faramir and his wife, the lady Eowyn, came from Ithilien. It was widely whispered that there had once been a love affair between Eowyn and Aragorn long ago during the War of the Ring, but Aragorn chose the elf maiden over the Rohirric lady. Lady Eowyn had already born the lord Faramir six children, and I wondered how she must have felt now that her old love was now free again. I watched from afar as she embraced the stony faced King. Like everyone else who offer comfort, he showed no emotion to her whatsoever. Eowyn's brother, the King of Rohan, was also in attendance, as were several dwarf lords, and diplomats from as far as Dale. There were almost no Elves in attendance. There were hardly any left in Middle Earth at this time. As King Aragorn's most trusted friend and confidante, the prince Legolas had dwelled in Minas Tirith for as long as I could remember. Yet even he found himself distanced from Aragorn.

For the next few days, there were funeral feasts which meant more work for us servants. I also had to attend to not only Aragorn's chambers, but also Eowyn and Faramir's guest chamber, and King Eomer of Rohan's as well. Eomer was especially irritating as he was quit prone to sloth. He was yet unwed, and it showed. However, the other maids' attempts at flirtation were all for naught. He had a very stern nature, and had no taste for playful bantering.

In the days that followed, everyone began to fear that the grief-stricken King of Gondor was descending into madness. He left affairs of state to his advisors, and sought solitude day and night. Night seemed to be the worse for him. He would rail into the dark of his chambers, crying out and throwing things. There was always a lot of cleaning to be done, but he seldom let any of us maids in to do so. Thus, did the palace descend into utter gloom. Aragorn's advisors, headed by Legolas, were quite competent; the country was at peace and prosperous. It was only those within close contact of the King that suffered. He seemed to be unable to find a good outlet for his volatile grief. Thus, endeared him all the more to me.

It was not my design to cavort with the king Aragorn. As enticing as I found him, I was a mere chambermaid. I knew my place. I was not a woman to seduce a man for power and wealth. I was content with my lot in life, save for the unfulfilled carnal desires that ever plagued me. It is a strange fate that only a mere five weeks after the death of the Queen that my life would become entwined with his.

It had been a few days since we maids last cleaned Aragorn's chambers. The King's grief had its highs and lows, but was never truly alleviated. This certain week had been particularly dark for him. The day we again attempted to enter his room he shouted and railed to leave him be. The other girls shrunk away in fear, but I stayed. Some innate desire compelled me to somehow, breach the fortress Aragorn had made for himself. I went in.

"I said leave me be," shouted the King.

I looked around, the room was filthy. Bed linens and clothes were strewn about. A number of miscellaneous objects lay shattered on the floor, and plates with half-eaten old food lay about as well. It's good that he's eating at least, I thought.

"Do as I command, Erendis. I wish to be left alone," Aragorn yelled again. It was obvious he hadn't changed clothes in a few days. His hair was unkempt, and there were dark circles under his deep set eyes. Apart from being a little pale and thin, he was still as handsome as ever.

"My lord, your chambers need to be cleaned, and your clothes laundered. I ask only that you let me to my work and then I'll leave you be." To show I was not leaving, I set about picking some of the clothes on the floor. Aragorn grunted and cursed. I hazarded to speak again.

"The Queen would not have wanted you to grieve this way." This was dangerous ground, I knew it, but someone had to breach the topic. I glanced at the King, a dark shadow seemed to have overtaken his face as I spoke of his wife. "You need to stop being a hermit, and live again."

That did it.

"How dare you speak of her?! You impetuous wench!" He fairly lunged at me, and stuck me hard across the face. Gods, it was pure ecstasy! Such a sensation as I'd never felt before.

Aragorn blanched when he realized what he'd just done. He passed his hand over his face as though a malevolent spirit had just departed from him.

"Erendis…" he struggled to speak, "Child, forgive me. I don't know why I…" He then, caught sight of the look on my face. He was a seasoned man, he knew what he saw. "By the Valar," he muttered, "you enjoyed that." A strange look of awe came across his face.

I merely nodded. I then noticed that the awe on Aragorn's face had fled as suddenly as it had appeared. It was replaced by that same darkness that he had earlier. The king put his hand up to my face whence he had struck, it tingled still and I delighted in it. I shuddered with pleasure. He then moved his to the back of my head and grasped the fullness of my hair that was caught back in a bun. His grasped tightened and he yanked my head back. He leaned his towards me so his lips brushed my ear.

"So," he whispered, "you will not be adverse to what I am about to do?"

My entire body tingled. I could barely let out a whisper. "I yield myself to you, my lord."

**Please, please, please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks to all my reviewers: _gracias, merci, grazie, denki, _and so on. I always appreciate you thoughts**

**Okay, this third chapter is going to have material referring to dominatrix, so if that makes anyone uncomfortable they really might not want to read this. And yes, I do enjoy writing dark, angsty stuff.**

**Chapter 3**

"My lord, I yield myself to you." My voice was barely a whisper.

Aragorn's face still held that strange darkness. It did, indeed, seem like he was possessed, or perhaps just mentally unstable with grief. I neither knew nor cared.

"That is well," said the King, "for I intend to do with you as I wish. Kneel!" Still clutching my hair roughly pushed me down of all fours. "Take off your gown!"

I complied, fairly tingling with anticipation. It was, however, a trifle difficult to undress while kneeling. Aragorn cursed with impatience and grabbed front of my bodice, ripping it off by the buttons, and my small clothes came off in equally short order. I saw the king take a belt from the floor.

Oh gods, I thought gleefully, here it comes.

As I kneeled on all fours, Aragorn proceeded to beat me. It was good. It was so good. His strikes were mostly aimed at my bare buttocks and lower back. The stinging pain made me groan with desire. For so long had I wanted such lovely pain inflicted upon me, and by an exceedingly handsome man at that.

By some fifteen strokes I was swaying back and forth and my vision was blurred as I experienced one of my first real arousals. "Take me," I murmured. "Take me."

The King then stopped his violent ministrations, and clutched my hair once again and dragged me up. He tilted my face to meet his and kissed me hard on the mouth, biting my lips. I relished it. I wrapped my arms about his neck. My hips pressed against him and I felt his hardness growing.

Aragorn released my hair and moved his hands down to grasp my still stinging buttocks. I wrapped my legs around his hips. He stumbled to the bed still carrying me like a small child. He fairly threw me upon the royal bed, and deftly unlaced his leggings. His rigid phallus released, he pounced on me and entered me with a swift, painful thrust.

Such violent force that I screamed. Screamed with the sharp pain and the pure delight of it. Such a great and terrible pain that I had not ever before experienced. I was drugged with it. So much so that a red haze seemed to cloud my vision.

The King thrust with such vigor that he himself was fairly panting. I arched my back so he could delve even deeper within me. And the release, ah god, the blessed release! I cried out in sweaty, unadulterated ecstasy.

It was done.

Spent, Aragorn pulled away from me and sat on the edge of the bed. My legs quivered from the delicious trauma. There was silence for a time except for our labored breathing. I lied there in a satisfied, pain ridden contentment. Valar, it was good.

Aragorn's head rested in his hands. "What have I done?" he muttered.

"My lord?" I sat up, slowly as my belt weals brushed against the bed linen. My hair, loosed from its bindings, fell over my shoulders and down my back.

"How could I have done this?" He turned to me. His face was pale, that odd darkness had fled yet again. He looked stricken, sickly even. "How could I have abused you in this way? Beat you and defile you? What kind of degenerate madman have I become?" He stood and I then noticed that he had bound his sated member back into his leggings. He looked at himself in his late wife's old mirror.

"What would she think if she could see what I've become?" By she, he of course meant Arwen. It seemed like he was speaking to himself more so than to me. "What would she think if she saw me abusing and raping a little girl."

"My lord," I interjected, "I willingly gave myself up to you, and I'm hardly a little girl."

Aragorn laughed bitterly and turned back to me. "How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen, my lord." I shivered. It was actually quite cold in the king's bedchamber.

"Ye gods, child!" He grabbed one of the many robes he had cast on the floor and came over and wrapped it about me. "You'll catch a death of cold."

The look of fatherly concern on his face made him look as he once did before Arwen's death.

The robe was of finer quality than anything I'd ever worn in my life. I felt guilty cladding myself in it, but my gown was missing more than a few buttons due to its hasty departure from my person, thus the robe would have to do for the time. It stung as it brush against the weals on my back. The King noted this.

"Erendis," he crouched in front of me, "there is nothing I can say to atone for what I inflicted upon you. I do not know what compelled me to…" His face contorted with disgust as he spat out the word. "Whip you in such a vile and depraved manner. Valar in Heaven, it was as though I took leave of all of my senses, and a malevolent entity seemed to overtake me. Yet I know there is no excuse for my actions. I am a king, and as such I should be a father to all my people. To exert my authority in such a disgusting way is not only disgraceful, but so evil as befitting a Dark Lord."

"No, my lord," I wriggled off the bed and knelt on the floor next to him, "you are weighed down by horrible grief. I do not hold you to blame. I am afflicted with desires so dark that even my own parents are repelled by me. I enjoy the whip. I relish the pain. Such treatment fulfills me like no other. I can't explain why I so enjoy it, but I do."

Aragorn nodded as though trying to understand. "It seems I am also prone to such desires. It shames me to admit it, but I do feel somewhat appeased now. It's as though part of the terrible burden on my heart has been alleviated. Still, I would wish to make amends to you. I deflowered you. Took your maidenhood from you."

I thought that a rather presumptive comment, albeit a true one.

"My lord, the only amendment you can make is to leave this room and become King again. Your people love you and need you. Your son needs you."

Aragorn ran his hands through his wild hair. "Eldarion." A glimmer of a smile shone on his face. "My beautiful boy. He is his mother's son, no mistake."

"I daresay the young prince would want you to be with him," I offered. "I'm told he asks for you often."

The king stood and held his hand out to me. "Come." I took his hand and attempted to rise. That proved harder than I thought. The after-effects of my pleasure left me a bit weak in the legs. Aragorn lifted me up and sat me back on the bed. He then smoothed my hair back and took my face in both hands. The gentle concern on his face was almost unsettling.

"Child, are you certain you're alright?" he queried. "I know you say you enjoy pain, but I fear you need some tending to for your… injuries. Forget not that I was taught the healing art of the Elves. My heart would be eased if I could tend to the hurts I have inflicted upon you."

My nether regions were feeling a bit raw. I gingerly drew up legs and settled my self upon them. "I'm fine, my lord. What's more pressing is if you are alright? Are you ready to be High King again?"

Aragorn ran his hand through his disheveled hair, and started pacing the room. "I know not. Truly, my burden does feel a bit lighter, but how long shall it last?"

"Well," I considered, "you are a healer, thus you should know that healing takes time. And… if some of your demons do return, know that I am always at your service."

His pacing came to an abrupt halt. "I will not treat you as a whore, a plaything." He nearly spat with disgust.

I gave a small shrug, conscious of my weals. "I think it a small price to pay if it gives Gondor back its King. Besides, a whore expects payment in return, I ask for nothing. Well, save maybe a new gown since that one will no longer serve." I nodded toward the floor were the rumpled remnants of my old gown lay.

A ghost of a wry smile hinted at the corners of Aragorn's mouth. "You are generous indeed. Consider your boon met, and I shall procure some salve for you as well."

Thus, did the King's healing process begin. At last, I had finally found someone to fulfill my longings. And as an additional perk, I was to play a pivotal role in restoring Gondor's beloved king to his people.

Albeit a less than glamorous one.

**Please review**


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